“GAAAAHHH!”

Chase threw himself backwards, scrambling away from the water's edge. A massive, gaping maw snapped shut, large enough that had he not moved, his entire head would have been snapped off his neck. Unfortunately, while he was fast enough to avoid an immediate death, he wasn't fast enough to completely avoid the attack.

Pain erupted at the base of his nose, and his left hand flew to his face as he fell onto his ass and scrambled back from the gigantic turtle that had emerged from the murky depths. Blood trickled between his fingers as he pressed them against his nose, feeling the warm, sticky fluid seep through his grasp. The turtle, its shell covered in angled points, seemed almost prehistoric, with eyes that glinted with a savage intelligence.

Chase’s right hand flew to the pickax that had barely left his side since he fought the mountain lion when the world went mad, his fingers closing around the handle with a white-knuckled grip.

He swung the pickax upwards in a defensive arc, standing his ground as the turtle lunged forward once more with surprising speed for its size. The blade of the pickax connected with a resounding 'clink' against the creature's shell, sparks flying as metal met natural armor. The turtle recoiled slightly, more out of surprise than pain, and hissed menacingly at Chase.

Breathing heavily through his mouth to avoid the sting at the base of his nose, Chase tightened his grip on the pickax handle as the true severity of the turtle's bite finally sank into his mind. White hot rage burned in his chest, his lips lifted to bare his teeth in a bloody snarl, as he glared at the turtle that had bit his fucking nose off.

Chase's heart pounded in his ribs like a drum, each beat echoing the primal surge of survival that flooded his veins. Anger and adrenaline mixed into a potent cocktail that dulled the pain and sharpened his resolve. With narrowed eyes, he assessed the turtle, which seemed to reconsider its earlier aggression, its massive head swaying side to side as if sizing him up.

The creature's shell shimmered with a slick, mossy hue in the flickering light that broke through the canopy of dense foliage overhead. The world around them stood eerily quiet now, as if nature itself held its breath, watching the standoff between man and beast.

Gripping the handle of his pickax tighter, Chase slowly circled to his left, keeping his eyes locked on those of the turtle. The beast mirrored his movements, its bulky body surprisingly agile in the soft mud of the pond’s shore.

The tension between them stretched thin, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Chase knew he couldn't underestimate this creature; its attack had been too swift, too deadly. He needed a plan, a way to turn the tables in his favor.

As they circled, Chase's mind raced through his options. His gaze flicked to the environment around him, searching for anything that might give him an edge. His eyes caught on a large boulder partially submerged in the pond nearby. An idea sparked within him, a risky maneuver, but it might just work if he was quick enough.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Chase feinted left, then suddenly sprinted toward the boulder. His boots splashed through the shallow water, sending ripples across the surface. The turtle, deceived by his initial movement, turned awkwardly in the mud to follow him.

Chase reached the boulder and with a grunt of effort, he hauled himself onto its slick surface. He turned and planted his feet against the boulder's surface, his muscles straining to hold his position.

The turtle, realizing its error, let out an angry hiss and surged forward, its jaws gaping open. But Chase was ready. He launched himself from the boulder, the force of his leap propelling him toward the unsuspecting monster. His momentum carried him through the air, the pickax in his hands arcing upwards in a deadly blow mirroring how he managed to kill the mountain lion.

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As he descended, gravity and determination combined to enhance the strength of his strike. The pickax's blade sank deep into the soft tissue between the turtle’s armored plates at the neck, finding a vulnerable chink in the creature's otherwise impervitous defense. The impact reverberated up Chase's arms as he landed squarely on the turtle's back, nearly slipping off from the slick moss coating its shell.

The turtle thrashed wildly, its limbs churning the mud and water into a frothy mess. Pain roared through it, an alien sensation for a beast accustomed to being the apex predator of its domain. But despite the severity of Chase's strike, it was not enough to immediately down the creature. It rallied, bucking in an attempt to dislodge him, its long neck twisting in an effort to reach him with its snapping jaws.

Chase clung on with one hand while yanking at the pickax handle with his other hand, trying to free it for another strike, but the blade was stuck in place. In his periphery, he could see the creature's eyes, cold and furious, staring him down.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Chase snarled as he finally gave up on the pickax, instead gripping the shell of the giant turtle and hauling himself up onto its head. He grabbed the bony plates along its spine with his free hand, steadying himself, and drew his fist back, preparing a haymaker to the creature's eye.

In retrospect, trying to punch a turtle that was clearly just as supercharged by the world going to Hell like the mountain lion had been was a bad idea. But, as he found out the hard way, his hand was a lot softer than its shell or the plate covering its eye.

"OW, FUCK!" Chase shouted, his voice hoarse as he pulled his fist back. His knuckles were scraped and bleeding, and the turtle didn't even seem fazed. It was like hitting a brick wall. Desperation clawed at Chase's insides as he quickly reassessed his situation. The pain in his hand was sharp, a stark reminder of the creature’s resilience. He needed another plan—fast. Glancing around frantically, his eyes landed on the pickax still lodged in the turtle’s neck. His only hope now was to retrieve it and strike a final, fatal blow.

With grim determination etched across his face, Chase tightened his grip on the slippery shell, inching his way back towards the weapon. The turtle flailed beneath him, a wild beast intent on survival, its movements throwing him off balance. Every muscle in Chase’s body screamed in protest as he fought to maintain his position atop the colossal creature.

Finally reaching the handle of the pickax, Chase tugged fiercely, leveraging all his weight against it. With a sickening squelch, the blade came free, slick with dark blood. Without wasting a moment, he repositioned himself and raised the pickax above his head, poised to deliver the killing blow.

The turtle, sensing the threat, bucked wildly, its massive body lunging from the water with sudden force. Chase, caught off guard, tumbled from its back and hit the muddy bank with a bone-jarring thud. Air rushed from his lungs as he struggled to draw breath.

The turtle, sensing an opportunity, turned on him, its jaws gaping open wide. Chase, his vision blurred and his ears ringing, could only stare helplessly as the beast loomed over him, ready to strike.

In that heart-stopping moment, Chase's survival instincts surged to the forefront, driving him to roll aside just as the turtle's massive jaws snapped shut where he had lain a heartbeat before. Mud splattered in all directions, speckling his face and stinging his eyes. Scrambling to his feet, he knew he couldn't let his guard down—not even for a second.

Chase lunged for the pickax, which had fallen beside him in the mud. His fingers wrapped around the handle, slick with mud and turtle blood. With no time to lose, he swung it up and around, aiming for the creature’s head as it turned to face him once more.

The pickax connected with a solid thud, reverberating through Chase’s arms and echoing across the now silent forest. The impact knocked the turtle sideways, disorienting it long enough for Chase to take a few precious steps back to reassess his strategy.

He could see the fatigue setting in—both in himself and the beast. Each breath he took was labored, each movement slower than the last. The turtle, too, seemed to falter, its movements less certain, the violent swaying of its head less pronounced.

Chase realized this could be his final chance. He steadied his shaking limbs and tightened his grip on the pickax. The turtle eyed him warily, its instincts warning it of the fatal dance they were locked in. With a mix of desperate energy and calculated risk, Chase advanced one step at a time.

As he drew closer, the turtle made a sluggish attempt to retreat back into the water, its natural refuge. But Chase was relentless. He knew that letting the creature escape would mean facing it again under even worse circumstances. Summoning the last reserves of his stamina, Chase ran forward, his boots sinking slightly into the wet earth with each stride.

He leaped forward, swinging the pickax with all his might in a wide arc. The blade whistled through the air, cutting a deadly path towards the turtle's skull. It collided with a resounding crack, splitting the bone plates and cleaving through the brain matter within.

The beast reeled backwards, its body going limp, a lifeless husk. Chase stood over it, panting, his chest heaving from the exertion. He had won, but at a cost. He felt drained, exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached, his injuries from the mountain lion flaring painfully with the new ones gained from the fight with the giant turtle.

Using his pickax to hook one of the legs, he dragged the turtle closer to the cabin before, once again, retrieving the first aid kit to tend to his wounds. His still bleeding face where he'd once had a nose in particular.